


A Blank Slate (But Is It Really?)

by azeryFalwren



Series: A Blank Slate (But Is It Really?) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27836554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azeryFalwren/pseuds/azeryFalwren
Summary: 12 Readers- NO. They stopped calling themselves Readers a long time ago. Try again.12 GODS sit in a dormitory common room, messing with eachother and panicking because they have no sense of time.
Series: A Blank Slate (But Is It Really?) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037508
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	A Blank Slate (But Is It Really?)

**Author's Note:**

> What if the ending was different? What if there were more beginnings than anyone realized?
> 
> [I really dont expect anyone to read this, if we're being honest- if you do ready this though, leave a comment to let me know what you thought! Please?]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gods are finally getting ready to meet the newest residents of their home. Space is impatient, and everyone is bored.

12 beings of immense power have gathered in an unlikely hall- a dormitory common room. They're fond of spaces like this, just because it has so much space to gather, while still feeling casual, warm, and home-like. 

There is no organization or formality to how they're seated, as shown by the fact that 3 are sitting on one (admittedly somewhat large) beanbag that had been moved there, a bit piled together.

Another two are sitting on the back of the couch, long since moved against the wall to prevent any.. incidents. Namely, falling off the back of the couch incidents. 

Three more are subjected to their (thankfully socked) feet, properly sitting on the cushions of the aforementioned couch. A fourth is sitting on the floor nearby.

One is seated alone in a comfortable chair, in view of all 12, while another is on the floor directly in front of them, the former's legs slung gently around their shoulders. And then the last of the 12 is pacing. Pacing. Pacing.

The one pacing bears a black swirl on her white sweater, the symbol of Space. She is one of the most powerful, capable of manipulating this space into such a tight cube that none here could breath, or making it so that they 12 were the size of ants- immortal ants. But she was certainly not the leader. None of them were.

"Malir, shouldnt they have gone through by now?" 

The one with the legs around him shrugs, almost invisibly given his position. The most visible part of his torso bears a red cog on the chest. The God of Time. "They're definitely finished there, but bear in mind, they sort of need to make sure nobody perma-died. You know the drill, Dryn."

One of the two on the back of the couch pipes up, a voice that, despite being quiet, carries easily through the room. "Also, these trials were different, remember? Lets be realistic, not even we had any control over half that." A swirl again, similar to Space, but different- dark blue, and smaller lines. Void.

"I know that Nxrim!" Exasperation is clear in the one named Dryn's voice. "But damn, coming through the gate never took THIS long, did it?" A thousand loops, and it was always the same. Dryn had no patience, no sense of Time. And Malir lacked any sort of spacial awareness. Depth perception? A lie told by those who can walk without bumping into things.

"More or less, this seems about right. Besides.. Someone important to the Crocker stray arrived." One of the beanbag gods speaks up now. She sounds extremely comfortable, despite the situation. She jabs a thunb toward the tv behind the beanbag- how she knows what's going on is a mystery. 

"Speaking of, there seem to be quite a few strays, aside from that one that arrived. The extra 16 are a little. Overwhelming, even for this Space. No offense, Dryn." Her symbol is barely visible, but they resemble a growing plant, almost- Life.

Dryn shakes her head, sighing. She's about to speak, but a plastic faygo bottle flies across the room from where Malir was sitting, bonking one of the innocents seated with the god of Life on the head.

"You're right Jynyr, but im the Time god here. Shhhh."

Everyone busts out giggling, even the overly-tense Dryn, and the now injured bystander, whose symbol remains concealed by the other of the trio's legs. 

These moments are almost like a ritual, every single Trial. Every single loop. Repetitive, yet.. too nice to push away.

The space god shakes her head, finally sitting down- a mumbled "thank us" from one of the 5 on the couch, followed by more giggles. "Heard that, Hanoh. Watch it." MORE giggles.

"Hey, not my fault, the pacing gets annoying! Go jog up and down the stairs if you wanna burn energy!" All in jest, everyone knows. Hanoh, with his bright (and almost parent-like) personality, is well known for his jokes- whether funny or not. His shirt bears a bright blue (and VERY well known) symbol, resembling the breeze. Breath, accounted for. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Dryn rolls her eyes and looks around at her companions. 12 that were just victims of the narrative, finding strength in eachother to become so much more than they were made to be. And now they wait. Wait for 16 more- no, 36 more to add to the multitudes that came after.

The 16 soon to arrive are the greatest examples of what the 12 originally went through. So much suffering for one singular victory, to get them.. here. To a home fit for gods. A place to heal from the trials. A blessing in disguise, for some.

Things will be tough, until matters are made clear. The new arrivals might not understand the struggles they went through are the only reason they made it here- and the gods cant blame them. They'd all gone through so much unnecesarry pain, and while the 12 had no part in MAKING all those things happen, only creating the battlegrounds of the trials, they were long used to reactions of anger towards them because of the trials. They wouldnt be too offended.

The tv turns off by itself all of a sudden, and suddenly Dryn stands up. Everyone knows what that means.

The other on the back of the couch, bearing a pale purple symbol- Rage - slides so he is sitting on Hanoh's shoulders, much to the latter's dismay. "AGH- Vyrus, get off!"

The one named Vyrus grins and just hugs the others head. "Cmon, get up so we can go greet them fuckers- cant let Mespar handle all of em!"

Everyone pauses with what Vyrus said, then lets outs one collective "SHIT, MESPAR." Dryn is the first to start running down the hall, hoping to rescue Mespar, a younger one of their species who hasnt totally dropped their title of Reader, and isnt too great with big numbers of people getting upset at them- which is fair enough, really.

The light footsteps of gods echo slightly through the hall, along with occasional curses. They didnt exactly MEAN to leave Mespar with the crowd! They just werent exactly thinkng about it.

But.. it appears that the youngest, along with the new arrivals, are already in the lobby. Surprisingly intact, at least in Mespar's case. The others... they all look like one would expect- Tired. Confused. Ready for a long, long rest.

And so it begins. The period of recovery that comes after The End. 12 facing more than 30, and praying to themselves that all goes somewhat well today. And maybe Oryf, the god of Hope, is giving them all a little of his aspect, to guide them along their way.

**Author's Note:**

> How to pronounce names!
> 
> Mespar: mess-parr  
> Oryf: or-if  
> Malir: mal-er  
> Hanoh: han(d)-oh  
> Nxrim: nix-reem  
> Dryn: jrin  
> Jynyr: jin-eer  
> Vyrus: veer-is
> 
> If you have any questions or suggestions, or anything to point out, feel free to put it in the comments! Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> The rest of the names will be revealed in the next chapter btw!


End file.
